Dekkagar

Thrill Jockey; 2002

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500 hours is a long time no matter how you look at it. Try to imagine doing anything for that long-- say, grocery shopping, surfing the web or standing in line at the DMV. To put it in perspective, that's more than 20 days: three whole weeks of your life. To further qualify it, let's also mention that over the course of an entire lifetime, the average human spends just barely two cumulative weeks kissing-- about 336 hours.

According to sources, it took over 500 hours to record Dekkagar, the debut album from Chicago's National Trust. Naturally, that's not 500 straight hours, but for a self-funded, independently released album, that's a lot of studio time. In many ways, the time investment shows. Dekkagar is, to say the least, a lush, heavily layered album flooded with overdubs and elaborate arrangements. And on a cursory listen, almost no one would guess that Brian Deck was mostly responsible for its smooth sound, as the resemblance to his other work with Califone, Red Red Meat, Modest Mouse, and any number of other Clava Studios projects is passing at best.

You can hear his clang-and-trash approach peeking through occasionally-- for instance, in the way the harmony vocals are recorded and layered, or in the odd analog tape noises that surface in the middle of the bongo-fueled "Lachrymosa"-- but by and large, he keeps his messier tendencies reined in out of respect for bandleader Neil Rosario's need for a smoother sound. Rosario, formerly of Chicago blues-rockers Dolemite and, briefly, Red Red Meat, is said to have funded the recording of Dekkagar with money he won from gambling while visiting his dying father in Las Vegas-- though the honest thing for Rosario to do would've been to kick some of that back to The Impressions for his appropriation of their rough-hewn Chicago soul. He could've tossed in a few greenbacks to Curtis Mayfield's estate, too, for traces of the old soul king's more progressive and elaborate solo work.

Rosario's debt to Mayfield manifests itself somewhat in his vocals, which frequently rise to a falsetto croon that unfortunately falls about halfway between Mayfield and Lambchop's Kurt Wagner-- it never reaches the majesty of the former, but also never grows as utterly tiresome as the latter's. Of course, his voice is also rarely out there on its own. I swear to god, there must be about 17 vocal tracks on some of these songs, and you've gotta wonder just what in the wide world of sports they were thinking spending hour-upon-hour layering dozens of vocal tracks when about five would have sufficed.

And therein lies the fundamental problem with Dekkagar: there's simply too damn much of it. In a similar manner as Spiritualized's Let It Come Down, the arrangements sometimes simply overwhelm the proceedings and things become soupy instead of bracing. And then there's the issue of length. Every song here is well over four minutes, and some would definitely benefit from a bit of tasteful trimming. Opener "Making Love (In the Natural Light)" opens with a steamy bit of hot-buttered indie soul that's frankly quite stunning, but by the time the eleventh minute rolls around, you're most likely somewhere else. Similarly, "Neverstop" possesses an amazingly well-composed melody and an engaging progression you might expect to hear from a band on a label like Bobsled or Sealed Fate, but the hazy production and neverstopping length prevent it from ever being hammering home.

While it may work only fleetingly as a collection of songs, though, Dekkagar certainly works as a whole to create a mood. The Rhodes piano that could have been lifted from an old Isaac Hayes acetate, the smoky bedtime bongos, clean wah-wah guitars and subdued, yet soulful vocals build atmosphere to spare, and under the right circumstances might even help you pad out those two weeks of kissing we're each allotted. In the midst of his 70s soul fixation, Rosario also reveals an affinity for old-school Wall-of-Sound pop, a la Nitzche and Spector. It surfaces most visibly on the floating harmonies that blanket closer "First Time That," as a whole roomful of Rosarios glide through an ocean of reverb over a jazz-inflected rock groove. It certainly stands as one of the prettiest things I've heard all year, even if it drifts on too long.

To reiterate: it took 500 hours of several peoples' lives to make this record. So I suppose now all that's left is for you to decide whether or not it sounds like it might be worth one hour of yours. If you're looking for a revelation or something immediate, you'd best turn away, but if you just want something nice and mellow, take a chance. Ultimately, I think Rosario and crew are capable of making something really amazing, but for now we have Dekkagar, an overambitious record from a band who may yet have Great Things in store, provided they can stop being so damn anal.